


Ready or Not

by lizzehboo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And Sometimes They Do., Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Like Whoa, Lots and Lots of Drinking, M/M, Multi, Scott and Allison and Isaac Get Way Too Stoked About Having a Threesome, Snark, Stiles and Derek Don't Talk About Stuff, Surprise! You're married., sexing, three-shot, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:25:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzehboo/pseuds/lizzehboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack goes to Vegas. Stiles and Derek wake up married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mydickisthealpha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydickisthealpha/gifts).



> I got bored. I asked shercocklocked if she wanted fic. She supplied. This is the result.

**Part I**

It was a horrible idea.

Hell, it was Stiles's idea. Of _course_ it was a horrible idea. And yet Derek had loaded down the Toyota – which Scott and Stiles had so _hilariously_ dubbed the “Shaggin' Wagon” which Derek hated beyond anything ever – with suitcases and bags and teenagers, and they had hit the road.

“Listen. We've made it through a crazy few years. We all deserve a little vacation. Come on. I'm eighteen. I have a fake ID. Let's go to Vegas!”

And Scott and Isaac were super gung-ho about it. And Boyd even seemed interested, which was really uncool because Boyd of all people could at least be on his side but _nooooooo_ , Derek had to just go with it. Because he sure as hell wasn't letting his pack run off to Las Vegas on their own. Bad shit happened when they were on their own. And then Lydia and Allison decided to tag along and damn it, Derek was a little irritated over it.

He should have kept the Camaro. There would have been way less seats, and way less chattering mouths. Stupid eight-seater vehicle. It was a good thing there was only seven though, because Lydia's bags took up a seat of their own. He really hated it, but damn it if Stiles didn't look like a kid on his way to Disneyland. It was hard to stay mad at him forever.

Though he'd play that card as long as he could, even when he wasn't mad anymore because... well... _because._

“Ve-gas! Ve-gas! Ve-gas!” Stiles was leading the group in a rousing chant as they entered the city of lights and it was loud and obnoxious and damn excited.

“Come on, Derek!” Stiles yelled over the commotion, nudging him from the passenger seat. “Chant with us! Ve-gas! Ve-gas! Ve-gas!”

And Derek felt like he had no choice but to do so, so he did, albeit a little lamely. He had to admit that he was actually really happy to see his pack so overjoyed. It'd been a crazy few years, but things were finally starting to normalize. Derek'd been living at his loft with Isaac and Boyd, and the rest of them frequented more often than not. Stiles had finally stopped thinking he was a murderer of any kind. In fact, he was probably the one visiting the most often. Derek's fridge had to constantly be restocked due to his growing-boy appetite.

He'd gotten the idea in his head one evening, piled up on the couch with Isaac and Boyd and Derek, shoving fistfuls of popcorn in his mouth while they all watched CSI. “Dude, we should go there.”

“Oh, where all the dead people are?” Derek responded, rolling his eyes. “Because we haven't seen enough of that.”

“People don't die all the time in Vegas. Just on this show. I mean there aren't people who only talk about _bugs_ all the time, but Gil Grissom is on the show.” Stiles munched on another handful of popcorn, then talked with his mouth full. “I tell you, this show got sucky when he left. Still, we should go. When I turn eighteen I can get a new fake ID made. It'll be awesome.”

And Derek was totally going to say no. He really was. But then Stiles got a little wistful, a little quiet.

“It'll be fun. You know... before I go off to college. One last hurrah of everyone together.”

Everyone together.

Everyone _together._

Damn it.

“I don't know what kind of fun you're going to have,” Derek said as they pulled into the hotel. He'd booked the rooms in advance online – suites. And fucking expensive ones too. It was lame. So they could only stay one night. _One._ Derek had been clear. “You don't have any money to gamble with really.”

“I'm not here to gamble. I'm here to get wasted and make bad decisions,” Stiles replied with ease.

“You are good at that,” Derek replied, hopping out of the front seat and lumbering around to the back to get the bags out. “Jeez it's hot.”

“It's because I'm here,” Stiles joked.

“Yes, that's why.”

Scott and the others were already making their way up to the hotel with bags in hand and on shoulders, and they were already acting like children too.

“We have to go to Circus Circus!” Isaac was yelling. “Circus Circus!”

“Well, at least you'll have me to keep you in line, as usual,” Derek added, taking one of Stiles's bags for him, as had become his nature. He was always doing things like that for Stiles nowadays.

Stiles grinned at him. “Oh no you don't. You are definitely getting into some trouble in this trip. It'll be the best gift ever to see you cut loose. Get _wastey-faceeeeee._ ”

“Are you insane?”

“Some have questioned my sanity, yes.”

“I don't see how I'm going to be getting wastey-face with you.”

“I have ways. Well. Lydia has ways. Why do you think I let her come?”

“Because you _loooveee her._ ”

“No I don't. I do not. I am not sixteen anymore. I am a man. I need manly love.”

Derek tried not to laugh. He really did. “You want me to supply you with _manly love?_ ”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Sure it wasn't.”

Stiles shoved Derek playfully on their way to the desk and Derek signed everyone in.

“This is going to be amazing,” Scott said, all smiles. “I haven't had fun in like. Forever.”

“I know. You kind of suck as a human being when it comes to fun nowadays, Mr. I-Wanna-Go-To-a-Good-College. You're not even leaving the state. You're commuting. You could've gotten into school no problem.” Stiles chuckled. “I've been having to spend all my time with these losers.”

“I gotta take care of my mom and those same losers you're indicating, you know.”

“I know. I'm just saying you could've partied more.”

“Don't worry. I've still gotten way too comfortable with you vomiting around me, but you probably don't remember that.”

“Stiles is sewing his wild oats,” Boyd explained. “Leave him alone, Scott. At least one of us can get shitfaced.”

“He finally got to make out with Danny too,” Lydia added.

Stiles nearly choked. “Whaaaa---”

“Do you not remember that either? You both tend to get affectionate when drunk.”

“Then why do I always get the crying, puking Stiles?” Scott asked.

“Because he doesn't want to bang you,” Derek threw in, ushering the group toward the elevator. “Hope you don't take offense to that, Scott. I guess you're just not his type.”

“Stiles likes people that drive him nuts,” Allison giggled, wrapping an arm around Scott's. “But I think I approve of everyone getting a little crazy for once.”

“What's your eighteenth birthday wish, Allison?”

She grinned mischievously, her eyes darting from Scott to Isaac like she had _plans._ Lydia raised her eyebrows, popping a fresh coat of lipstick on in the reflection of the elevator doors.

…

“What is this?” Derek asked, holding up one of the large glass bottles Stiles had yanked out of Lydia's bag. She was in the suite next door with Allison. Scott and Stiles were technically boarding, and Isaac and Boyd were. Derek had gotten a room to himself – but he knew that would not be the case.

“It's your crazy potion.”

Derek uncorked it and sniffed, jerking away from it, offended. “Christ!”

“Yeah, Lydia made it extra strong. We are going to party hearty.”

“I was never much of a partier,” Derek argued, eying Stiles dubiously.

“Well things change. Come on! We've only got one night and it is going to be the night of our lives!”

Stiles wrapped his fingers around Derek's wrist, and they were warm. And they fit perfectly there.

How could he say no?

…

He lost track of the pack. He kind of lost track of everything though after he'd finished off two-thirds of Lydia's patented Wolfsbane whiskey. He stumbled down the sidewalk, leaning on Stiles's shoulder, a bit too heavy for the equally drunk teen.

“Stiles. _Stiles_ ,” Derek slurred. “Everything is so... so _bright._ ”

Stiles laughed. “I know, man. I know.”

It was like the planet had slowed under his feet. He could feel each vibration of his feet hitting the ground, but at the same time was completely unable to acknowledge it. He'd never actually been completely wasted before. His total inability to function, and laying that in the hands of someone else was oddly exhilarating. His skin felt cold even in the heat of the desert and he swayed back and forth with a fair bit of consistency.

Stiles giggled and gurgled a little into Derek's neck. “I'm so drunk r'now.”

“Me too,” Derek replied slowly, it taking a little too long to chew on his words. He slid his arm down from Stiles's shoulders to his waist, pulling him in tighter as they stumbled their way down the street. “Whaddya wann' do now?”

Stiles let out a comfortable sigh, looking up at Derek through a long fan of eyelashes. “Wan' make out? I do.”

“You wan' make out wif erry'body when you're drunk,” Derek hiccuped.

“You're diff'rent though.”

“Am I?”

“Mmhmmmmmm.” Stiles leaned in so close that Derek fell backwards into a trashcan, leaning against the concrete, feeling it dig into his back.

The last thing he remembered was Stiles's tongue in his mouth and the fireworks behind his eyelids.

…

Stiles groaned into a pillow, heat pouring into his back. Too hot. Too hot. Too-- He turned.

Too hot.

Stiles rolled away so quickly that he fell out of bed with a loud thud on the floor. And his head pounded with it. He didn't have time to be hungover. He sure as hell didn't. He jumped to his feet, pushing his hands out in front of him, like Derek's sleeping body was going to attack him. He opened his eyes slowly, blearily looking at Stiles like a math problem he couldn't solve.

“Mmuh... Stiles?” Derek was confused. And his shirt was missing. Like Stiles has no idea where it was because it was definitely not in the vicinity. Stiles did a quick once-over of his own body and no, not naked. So that was probably good. Derek followed Stiles's eyes with his own, still rubbing sleep from his eye. “Did we have sex?”

Stiles felt panic rise in his throat. “No! No we didn't.” There was a part of him that kind of wished they had, but he swallowed that down.

So they didn't hate each other anymore. Far from it actually. Stiles hadn't been kidding with Scott when he'd told him that he'd been hanging around Derek for pretty much the entirety of the year and probably a few months before that. When Scott buckled down on his studies in times of peace, Stiles was supportive, because who knew when shit was going to go down again? But he got lonely, and sought company. Lydia was okay company from time to time, but she took off to London to see Jackson one summer and Stiles was suddenly finding himself at Derek's loft more and more.

Derek turned out to be a pretty cool person. Which was completely unfair because Stiles had tried very hard to make up his mind about Derek sucking forever and ever amen. In times of peace, Derek had started to get back to who he might have been before all the... tragedies. He was funny. He was kind. He was a hell of a good cook. Stiles started hanging around for the food and the television and the cool air in the summer. Isaac and Boyd made okay company, but Stiles really enjoyed hanging with Derek. They'd play video games (and Derek would always win, god damn it he had to be _bad at something_ besides using his words). Derek pierced both of Stiles's ears one night when it was really fucking hot outside and they were alone, sweating it out in the loft, and Stiles was successfully gauging them after fighting his fear of needles.

They'd gotten close. Really close.

Like really really close.

And so maybe Stiles had developed a little crush on him. Maybe some nights he'd fantasized about Derek being a good lay. And there had been moments where he thought maybe Derek had shared that idea. Like one night when they'd curled up on his couch and played Silent Hill and everything that moved scared Stiles shitless and he'd ended up in Derek's lap, clinging to him with a paranoid eye.

“You really think I couldn't save you from across the room?” He'd asked, muffled against Stile's chest as he crawled over Derek like a baby monkey. “Stiles, get off.”

A pipe clinked and Stiles jumped. “Whatwasthat?!”

Derek reached up and grabbed Stiles by the torso pushing him down on the sofa.

And they'd stared at each other for a long time, breathing each other's air, Derek's hands on either side of Stiles's body. But that moment ended abruptly and not in the way Stiles fathomed that they both wanted.

Now Stiles was staring Derek down again, fully clothed but feeling completely stripped.

“Awfully calm to be asking if you fucked me,” Stiles finally said, the panic starting to slow in his chest as everything set in. His hangover included. He held up a hand. “When I get back from puking, we can talk.”

When he _did_ get back from puking, feeling a little strung out and exhausted, holding his aching belly and trying to decide which hurt worse – his tummy or his head – Derek was hanging over the edge of his bed, his large bare feet poking up over the mattress.

“I can't find my shirt,” he explained from the floor. “I've looked all over. You okay?” Stiles flopped onto the bed. Derek pulled himself up onto the mattress and leered at Stiles from above. “So... no?”

Stiles threw an arm over his face. “I don't remember anything about last night.”

Derek put a hand on Stiles's forehead, and Stiles felt some of the pain leaking away from him, the pounding residing. He mewled, pulling his arm away to look at Derek, the black pain swirling up his arm and disappearing. “Thank youuuuu.”

“It's the least I can do for not having a hangover.”

“Whaaaa-- how?”

“I must have worked it all out of my system. Werewolf, remember?”

“Okay, smart guy. Do you remember anything from last night?”

Derek flopped down next to Stiles and they stared at the ceiling. “Let's try to piece it together. We drank a lot.”

“Like a lot. And we went to that club.”

“And then Scott and Isaac and Allison took off I think. I don't know where Lydia and Boyd went either.”

“I think Allison's eighteenth birthday wish was to have a threesome. Fucking adventurous.”

“And... I remember... dancing.”

Stiles smiled, the memory a little hazy in his head. “You're a good dancer.” He paused. “We left the club and we walked a lot. I think we were trying to walk off the alcohol?”

“I remember it being really bright. I remember telling you everything was really bright.”

“Yeah, and then you--”

“Then I--”

They both froze, staring at the ceiling.

Stiles's face heated up, bright red. Derek's ears flushed.

“I don't remember.” Derek said quickly.

“Yeah, me neither.” Stiles spoke equally as fast.

Derek ran a hand down his face with a sigh, then halted, palm still pressed against his mouth and nose. “...Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Hold up your left hand.”

“What are you going to have me swear in or something? Are we going to court?” Stiles did so, holding it up toward the ceiling. Derek did the same.

They each had glimmering rings on their hands.

“I think we already did.”

Stiles shot up so quickly that his head spun. “ _ELVIS!_ ”

“What?” Derek was confused again.

“You said. You said that you loved Elvis. We heard Elvis. And you were like _I love Elvis._ And I was like _of course you do you're like a fucking greaser with your leather jackets and sensitive attitude_... or something like that. I mean, maybe I thought that. I don't think I could verbally do it. And so I took you to see... Elvis.......”

Derek sat up slowly, sitting quietly in Stiles's peripheral vision.

“...We got married, didn't we?”

Stiles looked at his hand. “Seems like it.”

“Uhhh... happy birthday,” Derek said lamely, waving his hands half-heartedly.

Stiles shoved him off the bed. “What are we gonna do?”

Scott came waltzing through the suite's door, looking pretty fucking proud of himself. “Good _morning._ ”

“Hey,” Derek greeted from the floor.

“You look happy,” Stiles said, casually slipping his hand under a fold in the sheets.

“I am.”

“Have fun last night?”

“I did.”

“Are you here to brag about it?”

“Maybe a little.”

Derek clambered up off of the floor. “That's wonderful Scott that you got to sleep with Isaac _and_ Allison, but Stiles and I are a little busy right now trying to figure out--” Stiles smacked a hand over Derek's mouth, hushing him. His eyes glowed red in annoyance.

“Breakfast! We should get breakfast.”

“Oh. Um. Let me find the others. Meet in the lobby?”

“Wonderful. Yes. Do that.”

Scott looked a little disappointed that he didn't get to bask in the glory of his own sexcapades, but he shrugged it off on his way out the door. Stiles slowly drew his hand away from Derek's mouth, a nervous laugh sliding out of his chest. Derek grabbed his wrist tightly and Stiles made a noise.

“Aahghhblduh,” Stiles yelped, trying to pull away.

“Why did you lie to Scott?”

“I didn't lie. I mean, don't you want breakfast? I just... didn't... tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn't have to know. I mean. We don't have to even think about this at all, right?”

“What? We have to...” Derek paused, frowning. “We have to get this annulled immediately..... Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

“I mean, can't it wait til after breakfast? Can we try not to think about this til after breakfast?”

Derek sighed, releasing Stiles and sluggishly making his way to his bag. “Fine.” Stiles watched the lines in his back shift as he dragged a shirt over his head and shoulders. “Ugh. I smell like alcohol. Did you puke on me?”

“Maybe you puked on yourself.”

“That is also a possibility. God, I hope that was after we---”

 _Kissed? Made out?_ Stiles thought. _Like swapped spit. Tangoed with our tongues? All that?_

“Left... the... club...” Derek finished slowly.

“Uhhh... yeah. Me too.”

They would have to talk about it eventually. Yep. It was important. They definitely needed to talk about it.

...It could wait.


	2. II.

**Part II**

“Okay.” Stiles took another bite of his donut and chewed it slowly. “Okay, let's think this through.”

They were sitting outside of a Krispy Kreme while the others were still chilling at one of the hard plastic tables, knocking back donuts and coffee. Derek had a box in his lap, sitting against the wall. He'd eaten about four donuts already, trying to distract himself from the situation at hand. He watched a little miserably as Stiles licked the glaze off his fingers.

“We don't know for _sure_ that we got married.”

“We're wearing wedding rings.”

“Yes. Yes. But we might not have gone through with it. Maybe... maybe you hurled on Elvis and he kicked us out. I remember you hurling at one point.”

“Aaaand now I don't want anymore donuts.” Derek closed the box, giving Stiles a look.

“Anyway, I think we need to take a couple of days and piece back together last night before we do anything rash. I mean, you can't annul a marriage that didn't happen, right? Right?”

“Everyone is expecting to go back to Beacon Hills today.”

“So? Tell them we're staying longer.”

“Stiles, these rooms are expensive.”

“You have money.”

“I don't really like blowing my _inheritance,_ ” Derek hissed, and Stiles was definitely knocked down a few pegs.

He swallowed, hopping off the hood of the Toyota and settling on the sidewalk next to Derek. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.”

“Not just for that. But for last night. I mean, it was my idea, and now you're in the mess and I'm sorry.”

“No, no. It's okay. It was fun. What I can remember.”

Stiles smiled a little and Derek tried to ignore the slight flutter it did to his heart. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Derek gave a strong nod. “I mean, you got me to dance in public. That's pretty impressive.”

Stiles was in a full on grin, leaning on his knees, almost coy. “I guess it was pretty fun, huh? Gimme another donut.” He reached for the box in Derek's lap, fingertips brushing over his thigh as he popped the lid open.

“You've already had five,” Derek replied, grabbing Stiles by the wrist, “You wanna give it a rest?”

Stiles stared at Derek's hand, the ring glinting on his finger. “Well I mean... there's three left.” He was getting rather successfully distracted though, peering at Derek's ring.

“Hey,” Isaac greeted, popping his head out the front door, the bell dinging on the other side as he did so. “So uh... we wanna stay another day.” He looked at Stiles's hand. “Jeez, Derek, let the boy eat. You know how he is. He can consume sugar for days.”

“Thank you, Isaac,” Stiles said, moment forgotten, grabbing another donut and shoving half of it in his mouth. Derek wrinkled his nose at Stiles's manners.

“And don't act so snobby, Derek. We all know that the sprinkled donuts were for you.”

Derek glared at Isaac but slid one of the sprinkled, sugary atrocities up to his mouth. Damn things were delicious.

“So you want to stay another day. How many times are we going to actually _have_ this conversation, Isaac?”

“Is that a no?”

Derek sighed. They had clearly sent Isaac because had puppy eyes for days. Derek had a hard enough time saying no to Stiles nowadays (clearly, since he'd said yes to being his husband apparently). Sending Isaac was just cruel.

“It's an... okay. We will stay for a while.”

“Yes!” Isaac turned back inside. “Derek said we could stay for a couple more days!”

There was muffled cheering from the inside as the door closed. Stiles smiled.

“They're so happy.”

“Like children.”

“You gonna eat the last one?”

Derek tore it in half and offered it to Stiles. “Marriage compromise.”

…

“Do you actually like Elvis?” Stiles had to ask as Derek forked out the credit card for the rooms at the front desk. “Or was that like when I drunkenly scream out that I love the song Y.M.C.A.?”

“You actually love that song though.”

“I do.” Stiles didn't even look ashamed. “This one time, I got super wasted and I got Danny and two other guys to sing it with me at a karaoke bar.”

“I feel like a lot of your stories start with you getting super wasted. Your fake ID must be incredible. Because you have a baby face. If I was a bouncer I would kick you out so fast.”

“I could see you being a bouncer. All grizzly and buff. Stiles lowered his voice _Hey kid. Get the fuck out or I'll rip your throat out. With my teeth._ ”

“I remember a time when you were afraid of me.”

“That was a long time ago.”

Derek looked at the bill, a little green at the payment. “Ugh. I need to win five grand pronto.”

“So let's go gamble. And we can see a show! Ooh, yeah, let's see a show! Like a magic show! Or Cirque du Solei!”

“Stiles, we are supposed to be retracing our steps from last night, remember?”

“Hey, we've got a couple days. Might as well enjoy ourselves while we're at it, right?”

They hit the strip, much to Derek's chagrin. Scott and Isaac and Allison were fucking inseparable, laughing and giggling like lovebirds. Apparently the sex had been good. Really good. Boyd wanted to gamble, which was rare because he was usually careful with his money. But he was also very good at Poker. Derek remembered a night where he dominated Isaac, Stiles, and Derek in Strip Poker. Derek was in his skivvies. Issac only had on socks and underwear and Stiles was completely naked, only wearing the blush on his face. Boyd was still in his jeans and t-shirt. Derek had been determined to find out if he was cheating.

Now that he thought about it, that'd been the first time he'd seen Stiles naked.

He didn't know why he had to think about that at all.

“Allison, we need to hit up the clubs tonight. You are seriously not going to be the only girl getting laid on this trip. I won't allow it.”

“Scott and I are going to Circus Circus. We didn't get there last night, so. Derek, Stiles? You coming?”

“I wanna see a show,” Stiles replied. “Maybe we can go see a magic show or something.”

“Derek?” Isaac looked to Derek to see what he wanted to do.

“I'm not leaving Stiles alone on the strip. It will explode.”

“You're probably right on that.”

“Well, this has been fun,” Boyd said, edging off from the group, “But I'm off to win tons of money.”

“Hey, you can pay for the rooms!” Derek yelled after him.

…

“Tie my tie. I'm not going into one of these things looking like a tourist. I want people to think I'm James Bond or something.”

“Maybe James's Bond's little nephew.”

Derek was a little amazed at how close had become over the years. They really had come a long way from him threatening the trembling fellow from the back seat of his father's police car. One night that was standing out in his mind as he helped Stiles with his tie was prom night. He'd showed up at the loft, already a little tipsy.

“I'm not gonna go,” he said, his tie already askew, slurring a little.

“What? Stiles, Isaac and Boyd literally just left. Scott and the others are waiting for you.”

“But they all have _dates._ I don't have anyone. I don't want to go. It's embarrassing.”

“Stiles, plenty of people go stag to prom.”

“Not two years in a row. Not to junior _and_ senior prom. Face it, Derek. I'm lame. I've got gauged ears but I'm still lame.”

“You're not lame, Stiles. You're different.”

“Different is horrible. Have you not seen television? The different kids are always the ones treated like crap. Damn it, I thought Lydia might go with me, but then Jackson came to visit and viola. She's got a date. And Danny too. Everyone's got a date.”

Derek sighed. “Stiles, you're not lame.” He stepped over to him and adjusted his tie and coat. “You look nice. Go have a good time.”

“I don't want to,” Stiles whined. “I don't want to go by myself. Come with meeeeee.”

“You want to drag a twenty-something year old werewolf with you to prom? No way. I will be the oldest guy there.”

“There will be chaperones that are older.”

“Stiles, I dated one of your teachers. I think showing up at prom with one of the students might look a little shady.” Derek rolled his eyes. “I look shady enough, don't you think?”

“You don't look shady. You look great.”

A moment passed. “Thank you?” Derek had actually been touched by the statement for a second. “But I'm still not going.”

“Then neither am I,” Stiles said, flopping onto Derek's couch. “ _Batman_ or _Jurassic Park_?”

“Stiles---” Derek groaned. “....Which _Batman_?”

“Tim Burton.”

“Tough call. You pick.” He rolled his eyes, knowing Stiles had made up his mind. Derek never asked about it.

Derek was glad to see Stiles putting his suit to use. “So after we see the show, _then_ we go find Elvis?”

“Of course! Then we'll, y'know. Do what we have to do.”

“Yeah.... Yeah. We will.” Derek dusted Stiles's shoulders, looking him up and down. The words came out on their own. “I mean, unless there's something else you wanna do first. I mean we've got time and everything.”

“Yeah, uhhh... we do have time, don't we? Like all the time in the world.”

“Mmhm.”

“And I mean, it _is_ Vegas. We are on vacation! We should at least enjoy ourselves a little first, right? I mean, who wants to deal with all that _paperwork?_ ”

“Ugh, I know. I hate _paperwork._ ” Derek nodded. “And it can be expensive, seeing a lawyer and all that. Let's wait and see if Boyd makes enough money to pay for the hotel, right?”

“Right! That totally makes sense. That makes the most sense out of anything ever.”

“So let's go see the show.”

“Yes, let's.”

…

Three more days passed and they were still in Vegas. Mainly because Derek and Stiles still hadn't done anything about their marriage. Derek's credit card was getting a little warm. They kind of really needed to do something about that.

Then Boyd hit a jackpot.

“Fuck yeah, Boyd! Oh my God! Did you really win five grand?!” Stiles was jumping on his hotel bed, Scott bounding just slightly from where he was sitting.

“It's really nothing in Vegas, and they took some in taxes, but yeah. I know how to play the game.”

“You're lucky they didn't catch on that you're under twenty-one,” Derek said, counting the bills. “I hope you know that I'm taking some of this to pay for the trip. And your rent.”

“Fair enough, Hale. Maybe I should just go win some more.”

“I would be completely fine with that.”

“Guys, I don't want to be a downer, but we _are_ going to have to go back to Beacon Hills eventually,” Scott said.

Stiles stopped jumping. “Why you gotta do that, man?”

“What? We've done most of the things we can do. I mean, we've all done just about everything but gotten quickie marriages.” He chuckled.

Stiles didn't. He just stared at Scott with saucer-wide eyes. “Uhhh... yeah, good point. One more night?”

“We could all bare to lose a little cash of our own,” Lydia scoffed. “Derek's been blowing up his credit card for us. Let's all try to win something.”

“Or you could just pay me back...”

“Where's the fun in that?”

“Thank you, Lydia. You are so kind and generous.”

“I know, right?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smirked at Derek. “So tomorrow we go back to Beacon Hills. Let's make this last night a big one.”

Stiles's eyes grew strangely sad. “Uhhh. Yeah. Um. Derek and I got something we gotta take care of.... We'll meet you guys, okay?”

“Is everything alright?” Scott looked up at Stiles, suddenly concerned at the shift in his friend's voice.

“Y-yeah! Of course!” Stiles grinned, lying. Derek noticed that Stiles had learned to regulate his heartbeat around the wolves... but his eyes.... He couldn't hide those. Derek just happened to be the only one looking.

As the group piled out of the room, Stiles was standing on the bed still, silent, staring at the door. “We're out of time...” he said after a long few minutes.

“Yep.”

“So I guess we have to go see that lawyer, hm?”

“I guess so.” Derek turned and headed back into his room, scratching at the back of his neck with a sigh. “I guess so.”

No excuses. They had no excuses left.

Derek didn't really know why they had been making them in the first place. Maybe they just didn't want to be bothered by it? Maybe they didn't want to talk about it? Maybe...

“Derek?” Stiles voice was soft.

“It won't take a long time. I mean, we just sign the papers and pay the lawyer and that's it. No big deal. We'll still have plenty of time to go out with a bang...” Derek turned back to Stiles, trying to be kind, because the kid sounded so miserable. “I mean, vacations _end_ , Stiles. It'll be fine. And it's not like you'll be off at college forever--”

“What if... what if...” Stiles stammered. “Derek... um....”

“It's _okay_ , Stiles.”

“No it's not!” he yelled suddenly, slamming the door shut behind them to make sure it was just them. “Are we just going to _not talk about it?_ ”

“About what?”

“You know! Yeah, we woke up married. I get that. But we're not gonna talk about what happened _before?_ ”

Derek's face fell. Oh. Yeah. That thing. That thing that they both knew that happened.

“We were really drunk. Stiles, I'm _sorry._ ” Derek felt devastation burning behind his eyes. He felt terrible. He'd hurt Stiles. He'd done something really fucking stupid because he'd been wasted and now they had to recognize that. Their friendship would never be the same again.  
The point of no return.

“Why are you sorry? I did it. I remember doing it.” Stiles had an edge to his voice, like he was ready for a fight, closing in the distance between them. “Are you mad at me for doing it? Tell the truth!”

“Wha?” Derek raised his eyebrows, confused. “Stiles, we've been in Vegas for five days and we have hardly been out of each other's sight for the entire time. Have I given you any indication that I was mad at you? I mean... Jesus Fucking Christ, Stiles, we're _married._ ”

“I don't care about that! I don't care about a fucking piece of paper or that some shitty Elvis impersonator did it. I don't care that we got shitfaced. What I care about is... is that I'm going away to college and the only thing I've been able to think about for the past five days is that I don't want to leave you. Not Scott. Not Lydia. _You,_ Derek.”

Derek blinked, taking the words in slowly, uncertain. “I--- Stiles, I...”

“I don't want this to end.” Stiles was actually tearing up. He was _actually_ tearing up. Derek swallowed, his fingers itching to brush the tears away. “I don't want to go back to Beacon Hills. I don't want to go away to college. I want to be here, with you.”

“Stiles... you're freaking out. It's okay. You're just afraid of missing everyone.”

“No.”

“Stiles--”

“You're _different!_ ” he yelled, and Derek caught flashes of Stiles's drunken state slurring it at him, pushing him into a concrete trashcan and looking up at him with mischief in his eyes.

“Am I?” he asked, almost too cautiously.

Stiles grabbed Derek by the shirt, kissing him hard. Derek immediately had a hand on each side of Stiles's face, pulling him closer and slipping his tongue into his mouth with a groan. Stiles pulled away with a gasp only to pull his shirt over his head, then dove back in without a blink, pushing Derek down onto the bed. The mattress sunk under their weight. Derek slid his hands over Stiles's ass and squeezed. Stiles wriggled around on top of him, tugging at his shirttail.

“Take this off, fucker.”

“How romantic.” Derek chuckled, sitting up and pulling his own shirt over his head, feathering kisses on Stiles's jaw and neck.

“Don't judge,” Stiles mewled, his head falling back. “Oh _God._ ”

Derek knew that Stiles had a sensitive neck. He'd known for at least a year and he'd never kissed it. Never even laid his lips upon it. It was amazing how much he knew about the guy's body without ever having touched it. They had traded so many words, so much information that seemed so _useless_ at the time, only to know everything it took to worship each other.

He could hear Stiles's heartbeat, hammering, fluttering in his chest like the wings of a hummingbird. He slid his hand over Stiles's chest, feeling it beat against his hand, warm and rapid. It was like Stiles's senses were his own. He could feel the flush over his body, hear the gasps of breath in his throat, the bob of his Adam's Apple against his mouth. Stiles's hands fiddled with Derek's belt, fumbling a little as he was a bit distracted. He moved like he was in a hurry, like he would blink and it would be all over, like a dream. And Derek wondered a little himself on whether or not that was actually the case.

Panic rose in Derek. It really could be over. He could be suffering temporary psychosis brought on by their mistaken marriage. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Take of your pants,” Derek commanded, rolling off the bed and rifling through his bag.

Derek knew he'd packed it. He tried to be prepared for anything, and well, _Vegas_. He yanked the bottle of lubricant out of the bag right as Stiles's jeans collided with the back of his head. He glanced over his shoulder to see Stiles sitting, legs sprawled open, completely naked on the hotel room bed.

Derek caught himself staring.

It was a bad idea. It was a horrible, horrible idea...

Derek all but jumped Stiles, pushing him to the bed, lacing their fingers together and kissing him with a ferocity he'd forgotten he had. Stiles was still struggling with Derek's belt, making frustrated noises against his mouth, and Derek finally rolled his eyes, leaning back and unbuckling it for him, sliding it through the loops and tossing it across the room. Derek would have made fun of Stiles's clumsy hands, but he could feel his own hands shaking over Stiles's skin, tracing the parts he'd never contacted before, feeling the nerves jump against his fingertips. He drug his lips down Stiles's stomach, listening to the soft hitches in his breath as he got lower and lower. His hands stilled on Stiles's ribcage when his lips slid over Stiles's cock. He wanted to feel him _breathe,_ to feel the arch in his back, the contortion to his body that he'd never gotten the opportunity to see.

The noises Stiles made were ungodly, whimpering and shuddering against Derek, fingers tangled in the sheets above his head.

“Oh _fuck me_ ,” Stiles groaned, his eyes rolling upwards. Derek smirked when he pulled away, languid and loving, crawling back up Stiles's skinny frame to kiss him.

Stiles hooked his feet on Derek's hips, pushing at his jeans with impatience. He never had been patient. And yet they'd made it that long. Weird. Derek reached between them and popped his fly, shimmying out of his jeans and fumbling with the tube he'd unceremoniously recovered from his bag. He couldn't believe he was nervous. He was starting to think this had been a long time coming and he'd just been blind to it. Stiles sat up, pressing his ear to Derek's chest, letting out a little breath against his skin.

“Your heart's beating so fast...” he whispered. “I don't think I've ever heard it like this before.”

Derek leaned into Stiles's neck, taking in his scent, so familiar to him at that point, but so much stronger. He smelled like soap and grass and fabric softener, mixed with coffee and a combination of a million other things that Derek couldn't name. It was uniquely and perfectly _him_ , and Derek knew he would recognize it for the rest of his life. He squeezed the lube onto his fingers and slid them gently into Stiles, heard the hitch in his throat, the shift in his heartbeat. Stiles's nails dug crescents into Derek's arms and his eyebrows lifted, a mixture of pain and pleasure as he rode Derek's hand, chewing his lip as if he was trying very hard not to embarrass himself. When Derek pulled away, he had to take his own shaky breath on what was to happen next. Because he was so hard that it hurt, but this was kind of a big deal. He swallowed thickly, then entered him, slowly, carefully, his heartbeat a roar in his ears. Stiles's chest bounced with wheezing breaths, like he couldn't quite catch them. Derek gripped the sheets in his fists, squeezing his eyes shut.

God.

He felt like he had to pray or something, because something so good had to be sinful. He'd never been allowed pleasure for long. No pleasure without pain. It scared him of what kind of pain could come. He didn't want to lose this. He couldn't do it again. He just didn't have it in him.

When he moved, Stiles grunted, toppling back away from him, his back bending, mouth falling open in probably the raunchiest way possible. Derek took it all in like he was trying to burn it onto the the surface of his brain, lest he forget it in a moment of weakness in the future. He pressed his lips to Stiles's skin again and shifted his hips against him. He fought to keep his eyes open, watching the boy below him as he came, face blissful, painting his stomach white, but he came toppling down right behind him, his vision going white and his eyes rolling back in his head.

Derek heard Stiles utter his name somewhere in there. He collapsed onto the mattress next to him, spent, his body already fighting to recover but his eyelids heavy.

He could see Stiles's wedding ring, silver glint against his chest where his hand rested. Derek glanced at his own matching loop. He slid an arm around Stiles's torso and pulled him close, warm and perfectly fitted against his own.

He didn't want it to end either.


	3. III.

**Part III**

Was their marriage considered consummated? Yeah, probably. Actually, yeah, that was the definition, wasn't it?

Stiles opened his eyes slowly and the room was dark. It had been mid-afternoon when he'd fallen into bed with Derek and it looked decidedly night-ish outside. Whoops. Scott and the others were probably starting to wonder what the hell they had to do. He laid there for a long time in Derek's arms, enjoying the warmth.

Derek's arm as heavy on Stiles's side, breath softly tickling the hairs at the nape of Stiles's neck. Stiles groaned, sliding a hand over Derek's arm.

“Derek. Derek,” he murmured. “Wake up.”

Derek grunted, stirring. His grip tightened on Stiles before he let go, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, askew and he was definitely slow moving, like a bear coming out of hibernation. It was cute.

“I'm not usually told to wake up in the middle of the night,” he grumbled. “Actually, that's a lie.” He turned on the lamp next to the bed and stretched.

“I guess we need to go find the others. And pack. We have to leave in the morning. Ugggghhhh I don't want to pack.”

Derek tangled his limbs around Stiles's body, holding him to his chest. “Pass.”

“You can't just pass, Derek. We have stuff to do.”

Derek responded by kissing Stiles's neck, making him tingle all over and writhe against him. “Ahhgaghhhhh _Derek_...” There was a brief scuffle that ended in them rolling on the mattress, sharing breaths, grinning into each other's mouths. Stiles tried not to flinch. “Oh man,” Stiles sighed. “Oh man, I hope you were saving all of that for marriage.” Derek stared at him. “What, too soon?”

Derek went a little cold, crawling out of bed and searching for his jeans. Stiles sighed, watching him lumber around the room, not really looking forward to the idea of standing. After all, Derek had done a pretty good number on him. Which was a little embarrassing. Also, he couldn't shut his mind off. Derek didn't want it to end. Stiles didn't want it to end. He didn't understand why there was a problem.

“Too soon. Okay.” Stiles frowned, chewing his lip. “Hey, listen. Um. You wanna help me out?”

Derek zipped his fly, looking up at him. “What?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, his cheeks flushing. Derek still didn't catch on. “What?”

Stiles groaned, closing his eyes in hopes of shutting out the humiliation. “I can't get up. I'm sore.”

Derek cocked his head to the side, like an admiring puppy, his lip quirking in amusement. “Are you serious?”

“No I just enjoy sitting on a hotel bed with dried cum on my stomach. Help me out, jerkface, I need a shower.”

“Well, it _is_ a great excuse to grab your ass.” Derek leaned over Stiles, sliding a hand up his thigh. Stiles smirked into his shoulder.

“You could use a shower too, big guy. You're kind of rank.”

“That's nice,” Derek grumbled, giving Stiles's ass a good squeeze, taking away the pain, his scruff itching against Stiles's face.

“So come with me.” Stiles grinned at Derek, then paused. “Please don't say that you already did.”

“You're the one that thought it, not me. In fact, you're one of the only people I know who makes lame jokes like that.”

“Who's the other?”

“Scott.”

“I knew I was influencing him. You haven't fucked him, have you?”

“Pfft, no, Stiles.”

“Okay, good.” Stiles leaned on Derek's shoulder. “Isn't this supposed to be weird or something? It's not.”

“It really isn't. I know.” Derek set Stiles on the side of the tub. He perked up turning to look at the door. “My phone's buzzing. Be right back.”

Stiles went ahead and climbed into the shower, still a little sore, but good enough. He still felt sleep creeping on the edges of his eyelids. The hot water helped him wake up a bit. Stiles stood with his face directly in the weak hotel room jets, just letting the hot water run down his face.

They still had to go see the lawyer. Fuck. Sex was just another stalling operation, wasn't it? God... that had happened, hadn't it. It'd been something Stiles had fantasized about maybe at least a couple times (or more. Maybe a lot more.), but he'd never expected it to actually become real. They'd been so close. Hell, he'd thought a couple of times that _something_ had to be happening, because sometimes they'd look at each other just a little too long or their skin would feel so hot where it touched when they were too close. When things got rough, Stiles had stopped running to Scott every time. Sometimes he'd run to Derek. Derek had saved his life multiple times. Stiles liked to think he'd done the same for Derek too. He was proud because he felt like he'd reminded Derek to have a sense of humor once in awhile, even when his soul was beyond a little damaged. Derek reminded him that sometimes the world wasn't perfect, sometimes anger was reasonable, but even some of the worst situations could be survived.

They basically completed each other, he supposed. A perfect little loop.

Stiles looked at his wedding ring. A perfect little loop.

He watched the water swirl around the drain.

The shower curtain was pulled back and Derek smirked at him through the steam. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Stiles said, feeling sadness creeping on the edges of his voice. He made grabby-hands at Derek until he finally stepped in to the tub and engulfed him in the heat that was his skin.

Stiles held tight and didn't let go.

…

“Where have you guys been? It's been hours.”

“We got distracted,” Stiles responded with ease, though he could still feel a knot of tension in the back of his neck. He tried hard to ignore it, but it was making his jaw hurt. He also fought hard at the itch to grab Derek's hand because it was alarmingly close to his. All he'd have to do would be to reach out...

“Doing what? Gambling?”

“Sort of,” Derek admitted, because yeah, fucking one of your best friends was a hell of a gamble. Stiles could agree with that. “In fact, we've still got a couple of things to do before we leave. You guys think you could fill up the car? We gotta hit the road early in the morning.”

“Okay, stop with the secrets,” Allison huffed, crossing her arms. “You want to explain where you and Stiles have even _been_ all week? What's going on?”

“They hang out all the time,” Isaac said, raising his eyebrows at Allison. “What's weird about that?”

“Those,” Allison replied with ease, pointing to Stiles and Derek's hands. “You don't have to have superhuman senses to know what those are.”

“What?” Scott whirled on them and stared. No, more like _gawked._ “Oh my God.”

“Okay, so. Listen. Derek and I might have gotten really shitfaced the first night we were here and we kind of... sort of... got married.” Stiles spoke slowly, chewing his lip.

“Woah, what?” Scott could have been knocked over if Stiles blew on him. The rest of the pack just looked really fucking amused.

“This is a joke, right?” Isaac chuckled. “I mean, you guys would never—get--- it's not is it?” His face fell with realization and it was a mixture of scandalization and confusion. He then turned to Boyd like they were in immediate danger. “They're not laughing, Boyd. It's not a joke. It's not a joke, Boyd.”

Boyd ran a hand down his face. “Great. Just great. What are you guys going to do? You gotta get that thing annulled before we leave.”

“We were planning on it,” Derek said.

“What, five days ago? What's the hold up?” Lydia asked, her eyes twinkling like she fucking _knew something._

“Well, I mean. It was just. We sort of. Um.” Stiles stammered, realization falling over him that after all their excuses, not _one_ of them was even close to legitimate. He looked at Derek, who'd been really fucking quiet the entire time, begging him for help with his eyes, but Derek was definitely coming up empty. “Got... distracted.”

“For five days?” Lydia deadpanned, not taking their shit.

Scott was still gawking, completely speechless.

“We didn't want to bother you guys with it on vacation,” Derek finally grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You could have gotten it annulled the next day! We would have never known!”

“That was the initial plan,” Stiles said, his voice squeaking.

“Is he gonna move in with us? I don't want him to move in with us,” Boyd said casually. “He eats all the food and he snores. If he moves in, I'm moving out.”

Stiles gave Boyd a look, dramatically offended.

“ _Boyd_ ,” Derek groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I would be an awesome roommate, thank you,” Stiles argued, forgetting about the initial subject, preferring to light into Boyd. “I am fun to watch movies with and I never eat food that's labeled for someone else, and I wash the dishes all the time! Like seriously, I hate having dishes in the sink. I'm a great dishwasher.”

“I don't know if I'd go spouting that out like crazy in a job interview or anything,” Boyd replied flatly, not even bothering taking Stiles's bait. Which he never did, so.

“You know what? Fuck you, Boyd.” Stiles didn't mean it. Stiles never meant it.

“So, like, seriously, is he moving in? Because Isaac is enough, thanks.”

“Hey!” Isaac said, looking to Derek for defense. “ _Derek!_ ”

“Boyd, that's unnecessary. Isaac is the cleanest roommate in the world,” Derek tried.

“Yeah, and he'll feel like he has to clean Stiles's room and he'll drive himself nuts trying to clean that pigsty. I've seen your room, Stilinski.”

“Ew, you're right,” Isaac murmured, thinking about it. “Yeah, Derek, he can't move in.”

“I'm not moving in--” Stiles started, irritated. “It was-- ugh, you guys suck. Scott, say something?”

Scott blinked a few times, like he was coming out of a vision or something. “What are you guys gonna do?” he asked finally. “Are you gonna get it annulled?”

Stiles felt like he should have had an answer for it. But he was floundering. He felt like his brain had shut down, or maybe he'd left it on the pillow when Derek had been fucking him into it. Yeah, maybe that had been it. He swallowed thickly, glancing at Derek.

“I mean... of course...we are...” Stiles said quietly after a moment. “We were going to do that today.” Stiles took a shuddery breath, and he couldn't figure out why his hands were shaking. “Right, Derek?”

Derek gave a curt nod. Stiles wanted to hold his hand. “Y-yeah.” He'd actually stuttered a little. Derek was never one to stutter. But his confidence was quickly regained. “Of course.”

Scott looked at him like he knew Derek was lying.

…

“Well. Here we are.” Derek sounded so uncertain, staring up at the law building. “Quickie annulment. No problem.”

“If you consummate your marriage, can you even get an annulment?”

Derek glanced at Stiles. The sun had sunk down in the sky and the Strip was lighting up like a beacon. The others had gone back to the hotel at Derek's request and it was just he and Stiles.

Just the two of them.

Yep.

“I, uh... I don't know,” Derek said. “How do they even prove that?”

“I don't know.”

They stared at the building, but neither made move for the door.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Uhh... nothing.”

“So.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I guess we should do this.”

“Guess we should.”

“Yep.”

“Yeah.”

Neither moved.

“We gotta do this now,” Derek said. “We're leaving in the morning. We don't have much time.”

“What happens afterwards?”

“What?”

“What happens after this? After we get home? What then, Derek?” Stiles ran his hands through his hair, still messy and unkempt after their romp in the bedroom and the shower. “I mean. We can take the rings off. We can get the documents, but... but what happened here... it _happened._ ”

“I know.”

“Do you? Derek, we had sex. We got married. I mean. Those are biggies. Pretty sure.”

“Yeah... yeah, they are.”

“What is this?” Stiles sighed, grabbing Derek by the wrist so he could look him in the eyes. “What are we?”

“I don't know.”

“No,” Stiles said, furrowing his brows at Derek. “That's not good enough. Tell me the truth. I-- I don't want to just leave this in Vegas. This can't just _stay_ in Vegas, Derek. I don't want to do this--”

“I don't want to do this either,” Derek interrupted.

Stiles stammered on a couple of syllables, then, “Really?”

“Really.” Derek looked like he didn't know whether to smile or slam his head through a window. He took a breath, like he was a little petrified at his own words. “I really, _really_ don't want to do this.”

Stiles felt emotions welling up in him and he rocked on his heels, looking up at the building and contemplating giving it the middle finger because _fuck annulments._ But there was still a million things on his mind besides the fact that _Derek wanted to stay married to him_. Though the thought was definitely prevalent.

“But...” Derek said.

Stiles felt his entire world crashing down. Derek held up his hands in defense.

“Hear me out,” he said. “But you're going away to _college,_ Stiles. You've got your entire life ahead of you. You and me? We'll always have each other, whether your in Beacon Hills or L.A. or wherever you want to go. I don't want to hold you back from your life experiences, Stiles. Not for an amazing week in Vegas. Not for that.”

“You think I want to stay married to you because of _one week_ in Vegas? Are you insane? Okay, first off, I've had plenty of life experiences hanging out with a pack of _werewolves_. Second, you're not going to hold me back from anything. Frankly, everything I've ever been proud of _doing_ in the past few years has been because of _you._ You and Scott and everyone, but _you_ , Derek. I already told you. I don't want to leave you. I don't see myself going to college without you. Just tell me you don't want me to leave and I'll stay. I swear to God I'll stay.”

“I don't want to _do that_ , Stiles!” Derek argued. “I want you to go off and sew your oats and find happiness.” He grabbed Stiles's hand, thumb brushing over the ring. “Just because we sign this sheet of paper doesn't mean that... that _this_ has to end. I just don't want you to commit to something that's not worth it...”

“You don't think you're worth my commitment?” Stiles asked gently, his voice barely audible. “Do you really think that?”

Derek's lips thinned, his eyes casting away.

“I know I'm young,” Stiles uttered. “But I'm not stupid. We've been through hell and back multiple times. I mean, I think we even actually went to hell once or twice, man. I'm serious. I mean... I've showed up at your place on rainy days because I was fucking lonely. And on sunny days because I was feeling like life was pretty stellar. I let you pierce and gauge my ears. Remember how scared I was? I was shaking and crying but you never judged me for it because you knew why I was afraid. It's easy to tell _when_ I'm afraid. I can be kind of a wuss. No doubt. But not everyone can always know _why._ And you _do._ ”

Stiles started tearing up but he swallowed it down.

“You know everything about me. The past couple of summers I laid on your couch and I told you everything. I told you about my mom. About how when she died I... I didn't know what to do. And you knew. You _knew_ what that was like. To have your entire world just stop. You know my favorite movies, that I will sing and dance to Y.M.C.A. every time it plays, that I hate cabbage, all the important stuff and all the stupid stuff. You know it. And the thing is, you didn't _have_ to. So many people... it's just been so easy for it not to matter to them.”

The heat was stifling, even as the evening started to set around them. Stiles wondered if it was actually the desert air or if it was just everything exploding inside of him.

“I'm rambling,” he sighed, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his face with his wrist. “What I'm trying to say is that--- ugh--- that---”

“I love you,” Derek said. Stiles heart leaped into his throat. “Is that it?”

“Y-yeah. Probably. Yeah.”

“I... I love you too,” Derek said in a breath, like he was afraid the world would collapse on him for saying it. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's torso.

Derek was frozen. “You're not relenting on this.”

“No. No, I'm not. I love you. I think I have for a long time. And I don't want anybody else.”

When he pulled away, Derek's eyes were soft, maybe a little wet. He shook his head. “This is crazy.”

“So is everything else in our lives. But I love you and you love me and I mean, we get along great. We like all the same TV shows and the sex is awesome. What's crazy about it?”

Derek laughed, even though he fought it with everything he had, and the smile was beautiful, lighting up his whole face, brighter than the entire Strip. Stiles loved that he could get that out of him. Derek swallowed.

“And you're sure.”

“Surer than anything.” Stiles nodded. “I promise.”

“Well... well then.” Derek knelt at Stiles's feet, took a knee, holding his hand. “Stiles...”

Stiles took a shaky breath.

“Stiles, will you marry me?”

“I already did.”

“How convenient.”

Stiles threw himself into Derek's arms and kissed him, joy bubbling over in his veins. Derek clung to him, burying his face in Stiles's neck. Like he was so scared that it would be all over in a matter of seconds.

“You know, I could go with you,” Derek murmured into Stiles's skin. “Scott can handle Beacon Hills for awhile. And I can come back if need be. I can commute.”

Stiles's face was already hurting from his smile. “We'll figure it out. Together.”

He slid his palm against Derek's own, lacing their fingers together, and they made their walk back to the hotel, hand in hand.

“Also, you need to do something about Boyd hating me.”

…

The pack had an assortment of different reactions to Stiles and Derek staying married. They did. It was weird, certainly, but they also adapted quickly to change. The drive back was a little awkward though.

“So you guys are like, actually husbands,” Scott said. “That's weird.”

“Yes. You've said that.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“But I was supposed to be your best man and I didn't even know you got married until after it happened!”

“Scott, we will have another wedding in the future or something, Jesus Christ.”

“What? Clean and simple isn't okay?” Derek asked from the wheel.

“Derek, my dad wasn't even at the wedding.”

Derek slammed on the brakes, nearly wrecking the Toyota. “Oh my God.” Legitimate fear was in his eyes. _“Your dad._ ”

The entire vehicle went silent.

“So, um. Does your dad still have those wolfsbane bullets you gave him?” Lydia inquired, a little nervous at the thought.

“Okay, so that whole Death-Do-You-Part thing? Is that imprinted immediately, or...”

“Isaac you are _not helping._ ” Derek hissed through his teeth.

Isaac immediately started laughing. Derek groaned, pulling back onto the desert highway.

“I nominate Scott to tell him?” Stiles said. “That way we can be on the road before he chases after us?”

“Have you guys had sex yet?” Lydia asked, lips quirking.

“ _Lydia!_ ” Allison balked. “You can't just ask people that.”

“I just did, didn't I? I'm just saying that if Derek's going to die, they should probably at least fuck first. Do you guys need to pull over? Have a quickie at a truck stop?”

“I don't like this whole everyone's-convinced-I'm-going-to-die thing,” Derek huffed. “Sheriff Stilinski likes me, right? Stiles, your dad likes me, right?”

Stiles shrugged a shoulder. “Sort of?”

“What do you mean sort of?”

“He's gonna like you a lot less when he finds out you've been boning his only son,” Boyd replied, never looking up from his Kindle.

“Thank you, Boyd. So helpful.”

“Just be sure to leave the loft to me in your will. I'd say leave the car, but this minivan is lame.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I could sell it though.”

“Can we not divide up my belongings until after I'm dead?”

The inhabitants of the vehicle immediately started dividing up his belongings. Stiles gave Derek a sheepish grin.

“He probably won't kill you. I mean. Probably not.”

Derek sighed, keeping one hand on the wheel and reaching for Stiles's hand with the other. “I'm sure I can manage. But try to at least hide those bullets before we tell him. Please.”

“You got it.” And Stiles smiled. Stiles, his _husband._ How odd.

Derek returned it, turning back to the road. “Aren't you supposed to fall in love _before_ you get married?”

Stiles smirked. “Face it, Derek. You're different.”

“Am I?”

“Mmhmm.”

Derek was just fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look who wrote some fluff? This is rare for me.
> 
> God do I love writing snarky dialogue. I should write more Boyd. He's such a baller.


End file.
